


Redemption of the Dark Ones

by Warlady



Category: Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warlady/pseuds/Warlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is for those who, like me, have a special crush on the hopeless ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption of the Dark Ones

"Your words are poison," stated angrily Éowyn, the White Lady of Edoras, and bolted for the exit. 

Gríma, known as Wormtongue, watched her departure in silence, feeling her words as sharpened daggers, piercing his black heart. 

Because he had a heart and I knew it. Oh, how so well I knew it! I had been his solace, the balm for his tormented spirit in those moments when the world had closed its doors to him. Many times I had had his head resting in my lap, his bitter tears staining my skirts. And that time was not different. 

My poor mortal child, my poor dear wretched creature! I saw him enter his room, with a dark scowl on his face. Anybody who crossed his path that day would say that he was furious, but I knew better. Wrath? No, wrath was not enough to inflame him; it had finally happened, he was broken. After years and years of abuse and despair, he had been broken, like a porcelain doll breaks under the uncaring touches of a careless child. 

"My Lady, My Dark Lady, come to me, please, in this, my most painful hour!" He begged, his hand clenching around the handle of the Fairish athame I had given to him, its point pricked the pale skin of his other palm, and blackish blood surged in droplets from the wound. 

My nostrils were attacked by the smell of that blood, its taste came to my memory, and my unnatural skin was afire by the sight of it. I was compelled to him for his prayer, for his sacrifice, and finally, I was lured to him by the scent of his being dripping from his hand. My disguise fell from my frame and my tangible body appeared to him in his appalling splendor.  
I had no need to ask, and he was needless to tell, because I had seen it all, and he knew it. I just opened my arms to him and he let himself be embraced, cradled against my chest, his restrained sobs unleashed. I moved backwards and pulled him with me. Sitting on his bed, I let him sink to the floor and he reclined, his unkempt locks of hair on my thighs, raising his palm to my lips. I accepted the offering of his blood and licked his wound clean, sealing the offended skin. 

He cried and cried, like many other times. I caressed his hair with my Fairy fingers, and soothed him, rocking back and forth and humming an old tune. Like a mother would do with her baby. I smiled at this thought; the mother was as broken as the baby. We were not bonded only by his freewill gift of blood, but by our mutual grief.  
He calmed after long time, his sobs ceased, and his breath regained its rhythm. He lifted his head and fixed his icy blue eyes on mine, they were rimmed in red; the salt of his tears blemished his pale face. He stood up and then sat at my side, sighing deeply. He rested his head against my shoulder.  
"My Dark Lady, what would I do without you?" he whispered. 

"Oh, Gríma, my child, you always say so, but I know better. Isn't it Éowyn, the White Lady of Edoras, who already has your heart and soul?" I said to him, but this was not a reproach. Could I blame him for his choice? Nay, he was free to do as he wanted. 

"She has my heart, but my soul belongs to the abyss. You know it, my dear Lady; my bonds with Saruman will gain me nothing but eternal damnation. But I prefer to suffer eternal doom, if that means I will share a lifetime with her. Though, it seems not even my ruin and the ruin of Edoras is enough to gain her pure soul. She rejected me, as one as innocent as her is due to reject the darkness and the snakes that plagues the fields with sickness and decay." 

I silently nodded. Yes, I had told him this, many times, but he just threw away my advice and embraced Saruman's foolishness. I wouldn't censure him about this either, because it was not my right. 

"I'm afraid, everything is lost; my soul, my heart and my body will follow soon." He continued and exhaled. 

I took his face in my hands, caressing his pale skin, and softly kissed his forehead. He was not my son, but he reminded me of him. Even as he didn't posses my dear son's beauty and demeanor; he carried the same darkness in his soul, and his bitterness...His fate probably would be the same. 

I looked into his eyes and remembered our first encounter. He was a child, thirteen years old and hungry for knowledge. He had found a volume that talked about my folk, the Fairy Folk. He could have summoned any other of my kin, but he chose me, the Banshee. He was dexterous as a conjurer and succeeded. When I asked him about this preference, he just told me I was his best option. After some months of knowing each other, we discovered we were alike in disposition and in spirit. His eyes showed me the same grief I reflected in mine. Icy blue eyes were his, like icy green were mine. 

Since then, I had been his counselor guiding him along the path to power, opening worlds of ancient knowledge and lore. His heart was rotten already, and I could do nothing to prevent his fall in the darkness. His fall had come from the light of Éowyn and from the white figure of Saruman. His infatuation with the White Lady had developed into a ferocious passion and devoted love. Who could imagine that under that pale and fragile frame a blackened heart would inflame with such pure and uncommon feelings? 

He asked me for the way to conquer her. But even all my power could not change her feelings. For she desired not what he could offer. It was not his exterior that she despised, even when he firmly believed it, nor his dark heart. I knew very well that his shadowy and secret self was very appealing to her, a creature used to the plain and simple men of her land. 

But no man could give her what she truly desired with all her might. She wanted glory and equality like those that were reserved for the male. She had been born in a world of Men, and Middle Earth was not eager to give the females the chance to shine in fields that were considered masculine. And not even my poor Gríma, who loved her for all she was, understood her. 

"My Lady, you are so silent today. Is there something wrong, have you foreseen something and dare not to tell me?" he asked me. For he knew I could see things that yet had not happened. This, more than a gift, was a curse, because I only could see the upcoming shadows, as if it was not enough with my own soul's darkness. 

"No, my dear child, I was just thinking on your situation. Your destiny is on the edge of a knife. Try not to push your luck any further, Gríma, it could be dangerous. For the last time, I warn you, it is not too late, break your alliance with Saruman. Now that his intervention has proven useless in conquering Éowyn's heart, you have no need to return favors to him. I can release Théoden from Saruman's power; you just have to ask me. You can take credit for this miracle, and this could be a chance to gain her favor." 

"Give me more time, My Lady, I will talk to her this afternoon. I will tell her I found a cure for her uncle's illness. And tomorrow morning you can do as you said."  
"Then, it is a deal, Gríma." I took the athame (*) that had been lying in the bedside table and cut a wound in my hand. Then I gave it to him, who made the same in his own hand. We joined our injured palms and he fixed his eyes on mine, I could feel his blood rushing in my veins. When his hand left mine, the wounds had disappeared. 

"Till tomorrow, my Dark Lady." He bowed to me, and I vanished from his view, though he knew very well I was still at his side, as it would be to the end of our pact, or to the end of his life. 

***** 

Sometimes my visions are not complete, they are blurred and vague. So, I could not warn him about the sudden arrival of the Stormcrow. Gandalf had freed Théoden from Saruman's control; Gríma's chance to redeem himself in the eyes of Rohan and his beloved Éowyn had disappeared. 

As he rode to Orthanc, I flew with him, my heart filled with sorrow. His bitter tears flowed uncontrollably. He had lost everything in a minute, his land, his power and his love.  
That same night, he reached the Wizard's tower. 

The vile Istari grew angry at the news of his failure and the unexpected arrival of his enemy to Edoras. 

Poor Gríma paid deeply his failure under the mage's cruel hexes. I saw his frail mortal body contort and shake in pain on the floor, while the dark spells hit him, again and again. 

When he finally was released and thrown on the bed in one of the chambers, he pulled his knees to his chest and sobbed. The pain in his body was unbearable, as I could see from the way he cried. I was sure most of his injures were lethal. He had never been a coward, only real and deep pain could be doing this to him. 

He was suffering. But I could only help him if I was summoned, that was the rule. I could smell the blood coming from his body, and then a thread of it dripped from his parched lips, he was bleeding on the inside. 

"My Dark Lady, come to me." It had been a hoarse whisper, but it was enough. 

I became visible to him. I could feel his consciousness slipping away, as well as his soul, while the silver cord that attached him to his body grew thinner. I sat on the bed and took him in my arms. 

He whimpered in agony, his frame felt like a bag of broken ceramics. 

I cradled his head in my hand and pulling it up, I joined my lips with his bleeding mouth. The metallic tang of his blood tasted bitter on my tongue. I cried, my tears flowing down my face and soaking his pale skin. I called inwardly on all my magic and let it surge from my Fairy body through my lips to his. I kept my eyes open, and saw his eyes going wide, and then slowly closing, while a deep moan trembled against my mouth. I cured him by infusing his body with my own strength. His broken bones fixed and his bleeding ceased, I broke the kiss and looked at him. 

"My Lady had graced me with her favor," he whispered, a shade of pink covering his pale cheeks. 

"I will always be with you, my dear, until you want to break the pact or your life finishes." I caressed his face with my palm, his forehead, his nose and his cheekbones. When my fingers traced the contour of his lips, he kissed my hand, fixing his eyes on mine. What I saw there was lust, indeed, but there was something else. My immortal heart stirred with a sensation that I had thought lost long time ago. 

"Dark Lady, beautiful and terrible beyond all words. Now that everything is lost to me, you are still here. Even after I didn't hear your wise words of advice, and even when I betrayed you by giving my soul to another one, you are still with me. And now you give me your strength to mend my beaten body, and your kiss to repair my broken soul." 

"I could give you more, my beloved child, you only have to ask me and I will. You could know the endless pleasure of the joining with an immortal being." And I meant it, for I desired him, in a way I had not felt in hundreds of years. I longed for that body that had stayed chaste waiting for the love that never would be his. 

"Your love, My Lady? I never intended to receive such a delightful gift from you. Please, don't joke with this, your humble servant, not in this moment of supreme suffering." 

Oh, Gríma! Those who called him Wormtongue never imagined how the lips that could drip venom could as well drip honey. I reached forward and kissed him again, slowly, without hurry.  
He just surrendered to me, answering my kiss shyly. A pure virgin, he was a proper sacrifice for a Dark Goddess. He relaxed on the bed and let me render worship to him. 

Oh, an immortal creature worshipping a mortal man! Could anything be rarer or more amusing? My eager hands caressed him, undoing the ties of his cape, discarding his clothes piece by piece, till he was naked before my eyes. Pale skin, like my own, and raven black locks of disordered hair. With a swift wave of my hand, my dress vanished and I lay atop him, my cold skin met his fevered flesh. I claimed his lips again, harder this time, asking entrance with my tongue. Once his mouth was barely opened, I intruded and tasted him, delving deep, my tongue twirling all around. My bold advances inflamed him, and shortly he started to respond to my kiss hungrily. As a man who drinks water after long time of thirst, such was the intensity of his answer. 

I broke the kiss once again and started to devour his neck and shoulders with soft bites. 

He moaned softly, and his hands roamed up my back and down my waist. He was shaking, and his hard manhood was pressed against my hip. I shifted my position and lay at his side.  
I had never spied on him when he was naked, even when I could have done it. Now that I did look at him, I noticed he was really well endowed. Reaching my hand out to him, I enclosed his shaft with my fingers. 

"Oh, My Lady!" he gasped and his eyes rolled up into their sockets. 

I stroked him, slowly and firmly, and heard his gasps turning into moans. 

His body arched to meet my touch, and when I started to increase the pace of my ministration, his hips moved up to meet my hand. Some drops flowed from the shaft. 

A long time had passed since the last time I had tasted male seed, not to mention it had been male Fairy semen. So, I lowered my head and licked the glistening drops from the tip of Gríma's erection.

He shuddered, and I looked at him. His hands were grabbing hard at the sheets and he was looking at me, his mouth opened but no words came from it. 

I smiled at him and took the head of his shaft in my mouth. Not long after I was sucking on him hard, his pulsating flesh entirely filling my mouth, the tip of his shaft touching my throat. His moans were like music to me. I could feel my body burning and hot drops of my desire flowing between my legs. 

His end was near, I could feel it. I knew it would be good for him, but it would never compare to the heavenly sensation of joining with me. That sensation was what I had promised and that was what I was going to give him. So, I withdrew his needful manhood from my mouth and encircled the base of his shaft with my fingers; with a slow motion of my fingertips on his flesh, I anchored him to reality again, he wouldn't come till my own completion came. 

"My...Lady.... is something wrong?" he said to me, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

"Nay, my dear, nothing is wrong. Don't you trust me?" 

He nodded. Of course, he trusted me. All his wrong decisions had not been because he was untrusting, but because of his desperation. The lifespan of Men is so short that it is not uncommon for them feel despair when years pass without reaching their goal. 

"Then, Gríma, I will show you real pleasure, a feeling that no female of your kind could give you." I straddled his hips and rubbed my wet folds against his length, covering it with my own fluids. 

The effect of this was devastating; he groaned hoarsely, his face flushed with a new shade of red. His thick eyelashes fluttered, veiling his darkened eyes. 

I lift my hips a few inches and placed the head of his erection against my entrance. 

"Look at me, Gríma, son of Gálmód, open your eyes for your Lady and behold her true nature." I unleashed my power, and spread my wings for him to see them. I had not seen my reflection in long years, but I knew I was beautiful yet dreadful. My wings are feathered as those of an angel, but dark as the deep night without stars, not even the darkness of Ungoliat could compare. My head is crowned with a circlet of black iron, adorned with sinister jewels that glow red like blood. I opened my mouth and showed him my fangs, curved and long like those of a snake. "Do you accept my gift, Gríma? The darkness of my soul will fill yours and you will be mine forever." My voice was that of Death and despair, lulling the souls that had followed the path of the Morrigan to the battlefields.

"My gorgeous Lady, I accept your dark gift, fill me with your darkness and make me yours." 

With a swift single motion, I took him inside me, impaling myself with his burning flesh. I saw him under me, arching his body to meet mine. I knew what he was feeling, because in that moment, his feelings and his thoughts became clear to me. Along with my own sensations, I could feel his. I swayed my hips ravenously, violently, taking him with me higher and higher. The heights of human completion were promptly surpassed, because the pinnacles of Fairy joining were even greater. 

He came and came, his mind and body filled with a whirlwind of new sensations. When I finally reached my own peak, I howled, spreading my wings like the Angel of Death, and Orthanc trembled from base to top. My orgasm pushed him beyond his own edges in an explosion of stars. In that brief second, we touched Elbereth's lights and we saw the face of the holy Valië. Two dark souls filled with brightness for just an instant. And then...the fall. We fell to the reality, to the blackness, to the nothingness of life. 

He had his eyes wide-open, filled with tears, and his breathing was erratic. His pale body trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. 

I stayed there, his spent manhood still inside me. I kissed his face softly for uncountable minutes. I heard voices outside the door and an insistent knock. Obviously Saruman had heard my own cry and the tremor of his fortress. But I would have nothing of that, not in that moment anyway, so I blocked the door to him with my magic. Not even Gandalf could pass that gate; nobody could disturb my poor child now. Let all the armies of Middle Earth come to us; I would defend him from them with only the power of my hands. 

"My master heard us," he whispered, so faintly that only my keen ears could possibly understand him. 

"Shh, do not worry, Gríma, he will not bother you, not tonight, I am here." "I was filled with light, everything had gone, my pain, my sorrow and I was with you." 

"Yes, I know, my child." 

"But everything is gone now. I didn't want to return, I felt at ease there." 

"I am still here, Gríma, and from now on, you belong to me. You can leave Saruman if you want, I could take you to my home, far beyond the western shores." 

His face was full of happiness, but all of a sudden a dark shadow veiled his features. "No, I still have a debt with him, and I won't let him go scot-free." 

"I understand, my boy. Though, you are mine now and I will give you yet another gift." 

I leaned to him, and before he could react, I opened the artery of his neck with my fangs. I drank greedily from that source, feeling his heartbeat thundering like a drum in my ears. Then it started to fade. I broke the flesh of my wrist and placed the wound against his lips. My immortal blood wetted his mouth and he drank from me eagerly until I felt it had been enough. 

"This, my dear Gríma, is the sealing of our pact. Now, I will be forever with you, and guard you even before your death." 

"My Lady, there is nothing before death." 

I smiled, Men are so innocent! 

He embraced me and rolled over to his side. He dozed quickly. Poor lad, I had exhausted him. I had quenched his thirst for pleasure in one single encounter. 

The knocks on the door continued for several minutes more, and repeated after an interval of a few hours. When the morning came, I slipped from the bed and vanished, though I never left him alone.  
*****  
I saw the arrows flying in the air and their final landing in my dear child's back. He fell to the ground and the Hobbits thought he was dead. I imagine even he thought he was dead. But my blood wasn't shed in vain. 

Frodo Baggins was a noble Hobbit, and he designated a place to bury him. Gríma had gained the right of a tomb, even as the other of Saruman's dead men had been burned in pyres like common Orcs. 

Though his body didn't stayed in the tomb for long. When the sun had set, I came to it and took him out. The wounded skin of my wrist was pressed once again to his lips, the blood dripped in his mouth and his body stirred. His clear eyes opened and he looked at me in surprise and happiness. He stood up on his legs and looked at himself in wonder. 

"My Dark Lady!" he finally exclaimed and threw his arms around my shoulders. 

"Hush, Gríma, I don't want the entire Shire chasing us through the fields. Not that they could do harm to us. But the law of my Land is very strict about our exposure to the people of Middle Earth." 

"Our exposure?" 

"Yes, our exposure. Now that you finished your contract with Saruman, you are allowed to come with me. And no common man can stay with a Fairy in her land, so you are now one of us." 

"But, how?"

"By our marriage." 

"Marriage?!" His eyes were wide in realization. He obviously had not considered the sacredness of our joining, not in body only, but in blood. 

"Yes, you are now my husband, Gríma, son of Gálmód. Or is it that you repent of our union?" 

"I never thought you loved me." He lowered his eyes to the ground. 

"Now you know why I never lost my temper with you, even when you didn't follow my advice. Maybe you hate me because I didn't tell you all the truth. But I had no option. And you could always renounce this, live like a mortal again and follow your own way, as the Hobbit told you." These were my words to him, words that were painful to me as a knife stabbing my heart. But I wanted him willing, not obliged. 

Gríma looked at me, his eyes had a special quality now, the unnatural gleam of Fairish fire burnt deep inside the clear blue. He leaned forward and softly kissed me. "How could I hate you, My Dark Lady? You stayed with me in my glory and in my fall, you saved my life and took care of me always. I could only love you, with my heart and soul. As long as you are with me, I will be in peace. We could go now to your realm, or even stay in Middle Earth, because my home is wherever you are." 

"Then, Gríma, spread your wings and follow me to Avalon, because our home awaits for us."

And so he did. Wings as dark as mine appeared on his back. We flew away, guarded by the deep silence of the night. 

THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> (*) Athame: Ceremonial dagger used in Wiccan ceremonies.


End file.
